Chapter Four

The Final One

"Harry, you can't be out here, you've got to go back inside!" Remus had caught up to him.

Harry dropped to his knees, grabbed Sirius's arm, and shook him. After what Harry had seen today, he was sure Sirius had to be alive. Why else would his body appear?

"Harry, you don't want to see this," said Arthur Weasley over Harry's right shoulder. "Go back inside, let us take care of it…"

Harry glanced up at the others standing behind him. He could tell by their somber expressions that they all believed that this was only Sirius's body, that he was dead. Harry looked back at the house, where Lily and James were standing just inside the open front door, looking terrified. They'd clearly been ordered to stay in. Bill Weasley was hurrying across the grassy area toward the group of wizards and witches standing around the body.

"I've sent a message to Dumbledore, he should be here soon," he said breathlessly. "What – what are you doing?"

Harry looked back at Sirius's bloodless face, trying to think with his numb brain. His parents were back. Surely that meant Sirius could be back too? However, Sirius's body still hadn't moved.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley said urgently. "You've got to go inside! I don't know how his body got here, but we've to get it and everyone out of sight before –"

He stopped, and Harry felt his heart nearly stop too, as Sirius's arm moved slightly in his grasp.

"Sirius!" Harry said loudly, shaking the body again. "Sirius!"

"Harry, for heaven's sake, be quiet –" Mr. Weasley stopped again, because this time Sirius's eyes had opened.

"Harry?" Sirius said blearily. "What's going on?"

"I have no idea," Harry replied, feeling dizzy again.

Once again, Harry felt a spreading numbness throughout his entire body and mind. After sixteen years of being certain of his parents' deaths, they had suddenly reappeared, apparently whole and healthy. He had managed to accept that, in a way. But Sirius had only been gone for a couple of months, and before this moment, Harry had not been able to think of Sirius without experiencing an unpleasant jolt of remorse and grief; yet he was here as well, looking up at Harry as though awakening from a strange dream. In some ways, it was even harder to believe than seeing his parents again, because the pain of his death was still so near and intense.

"I died," said Sirius, frowning. "Didn't I? We were at the Ministry, and I fell through the veil. How can this be?"

"No one has any answers," Harry said quietly. "Can you stand up? We should go inside."

As Harry tried to get to his feet, his scar seared again, much more painfully than it had at dinner. With an involuntary shout of pain, Harry feel back down to his knees, pressing both hands to his face and squeezing his eyes shut. Immediately, Harry could see an image, as if it had been waiting on the backs of his eyelids. Voldemort was standing in what appeared to be a dark, stone room which was lit only by a fire under a large cauldron in the center. Two other people knelt in front of Voldemort, completely covered in hooded black cloaks.

The picture immediately began to blur and fade, but Harry could still hear Voldemort's high, cold voice.

"The final one has arrived. They will test it, and then it will be perfectly placed to begin the plan. Soon we will know…"

"Harry!"

The pain receded slightly, and Harry was able to get to his feet, blinking. Remus and Sirius were both standing very close to him; all the others stood back, looking nervous. Harry stared at Sirius, who stared back. He looked real, just as Harry had last remembered him, complete with the long black hair and the shadows that had never quite left Sirius's eyes since he had gone to Azkaban. It was as though his wildest dreams had come true. Could it be possible?

"Are you all right?" asked Remus, placing a hand on Harry's arm.

With a jolt, Voldemort's words rushed through Harry's thoughts again. It has arrived… Could it be coincidence that Voldemort had suddenly been feeling pleased about an arrival just as Sirius came back? What was more, it seemed to Harry that the noise which had brought them outside should have been heard by wizards and witches for miles around. Where were they? Where were the Death Eaters? Was this entire experience a giant trap laid by Voldemort to get to Harry? It was too much to bear. Feeling very sick, Harry turned and strode toward the house without speaking to anyone.

Harry barely heard the murmuring behind him as everyone followed him back inside. He didn't realize that his parents weren't in the doorway anymore. Harry didn't look around or speak until he reached the kitchen again, where he spun around to face everyone who had entered behind him.

Breathing heavily, Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it as Sirius's chest.

"What are you doing?" Remus cried in surprise.

"Harry, don't!" Bill said. "Just stay calm. We'll sort this out."

Harry didn't move. James and Lily slipped into the room behind everyone else. A moment later, they were followed by Dumbledore, who had apparently just arrived. Dumbledore gently nudged his way to the front of the group.

"Stop him, Dumbledore!" urged Fred Weasley. A few of the others made noises of assent, but Dumbledore held up a hand to silence them, and looked at Harry with a familiar, piercing gaze. The he nodded slightly.

"When I was thirteen, how exactly did you escape from Hogwarts?" Harry growled at Sirius.

"Harry, please – "

"Answer me!"

"You and Hermione flew up on a hippogriff, Buckbeak, to the window of the room where I was being held. You two got off on the roof and I flew away with Buckbeak."

"And what did you say to me before you left?" Harry continued determinedly, pretending not to notice the way his wand hand was shaking. "Just before you flew away, what did you say?"

Sirius stared at him. "I told you… I told you that you are truly your father's son."

Over Sirius's shoulder, Harry saw James wipe his eyes. Other Order of the Phoenix members were slipping into the room now, apparently summoned from their homes. Harry dropped his arm, feeling shocked in spite of himself, and almost instantly found himself being squeezed tightly.

"I don't know what's going on," said Sirius quietly into Harry's ear. "But we're going to figure it out, and I'm grateful to be here with you, no matter what."

Harry just nodded, unable to speak, his own eyes burning. He then gently pushed Sirius away.

"There's something else you need to know, then, right away. Look behind you."

Looking confused, Sirius turned slowly, his eyes searching the still-growing crowd of people, until he spotted Harry's mother and father. For a split second, he froze, his body tense, and the little color that had been growing in his face drained. Then Sirius began to rapidly back away, knocking Harry aside and not stopping until his back and crashed audibly against the pantry door.

"What is this?" he burst out, his voice hoarse and uneven. "What are you doing to me?"

"It's okay," Harry said quietly, approaching Sirius slowly. "I know it's unbelievable, but so is you being here, and you are."

Sirius didn't speak for a moment. Then he suddenly stiffened and scowled at Harry.

"You made me think that I wasn't dead!" he accused.

"W-what?" asked Harry, taken completely aback.

"Outside, you made me think that I hadn't really died! I've been dead all along! What… all of you here died, too? Oh, Harry – Remus, Albus – I'm so sorry…" Sirius trailed off, now looking horrified.

"No!" said Harry quickly, understanding at last. "No, Sirius, none of us are dead. You're not dead. Not anymore, at least," he added, feeling a wild, nearly irresistible urge to laugh. He glanced at Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling.

Sirius shook his head. "This isn't possible. People don't come back from the dead."

"We've been saying that all day, Sirius, we know, we've no way of explaining it. But here you are."

"Sirius," James spoke up. Harry noticed that James's cheeks were still wet. "Sirius, it's me. When we first met on the train to Hogwarts, I nearly threw a pumpkin pasty in your face when I heard you last name was Black, but then you said you hated your whole family and that you wanted to be in Gryffindor, that it would make them all furious. And a week later, when you caught me sneaking into Minerva McGonagall's office, you distracted Nearly-Headless Nick for me. She never found out that I mixed some Essence of Euphoria powder in with her tea leaves –"

"You did what?!" a voice exclaimed from the back of the crowd. Apparently Professor McGonagall had arrived since James had last checked. Harry could see Fred shaking with silent laughter, while George covered a broad grin with his hand.

"Oops – sorry, Minerva, didn't see you there," said James sheepishly. "Anyway, Sirius, the point is, we're both here, and we're both really alive."

Finally, Sirius stepped forward, his eyes bright, and he and James embraced like brothers. Sirius then hugged Lily, too, and then suddenly everyone in the kitchen seemed to crowd in toward them, each one trying to get a word in with Sirius. Harry hung back, watching them all, until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"This has been quite a day," Dumbledore murmured, smiling. "Not one, but three instances which defy magical law – quite what we needed, I think, to keep our minds busy."

"Sir?"

Harry was very happy that Lily, James, and Sirius were there, but he could not think of a time in which he was less in need of more to think about.

Dumbledore's smile broadened. "Come, Harry, let us not waste a good reason to celebrate! Today's events, while baffling, at least add a puzzle which will give us all hope. Allow yourself to be happy about it."

Harry could think of nothing to say. He watched while Sirius shook hands with Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Harry, I think it would be a good idea for you to attend a portion of the Order of the Phoenix meetings," Dumbledore continued casually, as if telling Harry about the predicted weather for the next day.

Harry blinked.

"Really?"

"Of course, you are still underage, and you should not expect to be involved in any kind of action. But Harry, you are more closely connected with Voldemort than anyone else in this world. It is only fitting that you are told what we know, and what we are trying to do to keep as many people safe as possible. I think we will wait for a couple of weeks until you have all settled in again here, and then you can begin attending some parts of the meetings."

Without waiting for a response, Dumbledore clapped his hands loudly and waved for attention.

"Clearly, we are all thrilled to have Lily, James, and Sirius with us again, despite the surprise and inexplicability," he said. "In fact, I cannot think of a time in which I have been more amazed – or more joyful."

He paused, beaming, and surveyed all those looking back at him. Nearly every face was beaming back at him, and several were weeping openly.

"However, Sirius's return will change our interpretation of today's events, and I think we will have plenty to discuss tonight. In that case, Harry, I think it's best that you go up to bed."

Harry looked first and his mother and father, and then at Sirius. He was a little afraid to leave the room. Part of him thought that if he left, he would wake up to find it all a dream.

Sirius seemed to understand at once. He quickly whispered to Lily and James, and then, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, steered him out onto the stairs which led to the kitchen, with Lily and James following.

"Harry –" he began, speaking in a very low voice. Instead of continuing, though, he grabbed Harry's shoulders and pulled him into a very tight hug again. He didn't let go for nearly a minute, and then Sirius rubbed his eyes and sighed.

"Harry," he started again, "I wish we had time, right now, to talk and spend time together. Quite honestly, I don't feel like letting you out of my sight for the next fifty years. But you've got to understand, this is really, really important. We have to try to figure out what happened, because nothing like this has ever happened in any recorded history. We've got to do this tonight. Tomorrow, we can all talk as much as you like, all right? I swear."

Harry nodded, though he had a knot of fear in his stomach.

"Right," he said. His heart was beating in his chest, but he took a deep breath and said, "Goodnight, then."

Lily and James each hugged him then, too, and the three of them went back into the kitchen, leaving Harry on the dark stairwell, staring at the light coming from the crack under the door. He turned, slowly, and made his way up the room he shared with Ron the previous year. He could hear whispering coming from inside, so he paused outside the door, but he couldn't make out any of the words.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all jumped up from their seats on the two beds when they saw Harry.

"What happened?" said Ginny at once.

"That noise – what in Merlin's name –"

"Was it an attack?"

"Harry – are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he mumbled.

"What happened?" Ginny repeated.

"Sirius," Harry said numbly. "Sirius is back, too."

No one spoke for a few seconds. Then they all spoke at once again.

"You're joking –"

"Impossible –"

"That's not funny –"

"I'm not joking," Harry said impatiently. "Sirius came back, just like my parents did. He's down in the kitchen."

Silence fell again. The others all stared at Harry blankly. Feeling uncomfortable, Harry glanced around the room. The empty portrait was still hanging over the bed he had slept in last year, and Hedwig's cage rested empty on top of the wardrobe. His trunk had been placed neatly at the end of the bed.

Finally, as if unsure of Harry's sanity, Ron asked carefully, "Are you sure, mate?"

"Yes," said Harry shortly.

"I believe you," Ginny said. A grin spread slowly across her face. Harry's annoyance vanished, and he grinned, too.

"We have to go see," whispered Hermione.

Harry began to tell them not to, because the Order was meeting, but stopped himself. How could he ask them to just believe without seeing? What was more, how could he tell them that Sirius had risen from the dead, and expect them to not even say hello?

"Go on," he said. The three of them rushed from the room and he listened to their footsteps thumping on the staircase in their hurry. A foggy voice in Harry's mind mused that they were lucky not to have woken the portrait of Sirius's mother.

Harry lay down on his bed, sighing. It was nearly midnight now, and this was the first time he'd been alone since earlier than day at the Dursleys'. That afternoon felt like weeks ago. He was just closing his eyes and beginning to enjoy the silence, trying to empty his mind, when a voice spoke, startling him.

"Is it true? He's really back?"

Harry had forgotten about the portrait above his bed. Phineas Nigellus had appeared, visiting from his other portrait, and was peering down at Harry.

"Yes, he is," said Harry with another sigh. "Go down and see, if you want to."

Without another word, Phineas Nigellus strode sideways out of the frame, disappearing.

"You're welcome," Harry said grumpily to the now empty portrait.

On a sudden urge, he went to his trunk and shoved aside parchment and books until he found the photo album that Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year at Hogwarts. He flipped through to his favorite picture of his parents' wedding day: the one with Lily, James, and Sirius all beaming and waving. That picture had always felt to him like a dream. He stared at it for several minutes, until he heard footsteps on the stairs again. He put the album back into his trunk and sat down just as Ron, Ginny, and Hermione burst into the room.

"Well?" Harry asked, looking expectantly at Hermione.

"Well, what?"

"What do you think?"

"I can still barely believe it," Hermione admitted breathlessly. "It's like Dumbledore said, Harry. Nothing even remotely close to this has ever happened before. If you'd asked me before today, I'd have said that such a thing is completely impossible, no matter what."

"But obviously, it's not," Ron pointed out. "It happened. Maybe they somehow decided to come, like ghosts—"

"Ghosts don't have bodies," said Ginny sharply, cutting him off.

"Exactly," agreed Hermione, nodding. "Wizards and witches can return as ghosts, but they only do so right after death, not years later, and they never, ever have bodies of any kind. It's only the soul that stays."

"Nearly-Headless Nick told me that they have to choose, and they can't change their mind," said Harry, remembering suddenly. "He said he was afraid to leave, so he stayed, but most people would go on… and once ghosts choose to stay, they're trapped here. I'm sure it's the same for the ones who go on."

"What do you mean, 'go on'?" Ron demanded.

"I don't know," Harry said, shrugging. "It's what he said. He didn't know what it was like because he didn't go, he stayed."

"There's so much we don't know about death," said Hermione, sighing and rubbing her eyes. For several minutes there was silence, none of them meeting the others' eyes. Finally Ron broke it.

"Wizards can sort of –" He paused and swallowed. "—reanimate dead bodies, can't they?"

With a terrible sick feeling in his stomach, Harry imagined first his parents' lifeless bodies, then Sirius's, being lifted from the ground and made to walk, arms outstretching in front of them, like zombies in one of Dudley's favorite video games, while a hooded figure pointed a wand at them. Harry glanced at the others, who looked as though they were visualizing similar images. Ginny's brow was furrowed deeply, and Hermione looked slightly nauseated.

"Sorry," Ron muttered, looking guilty. "I know that sounds horrible, it's just – I've heard stories –"

"No, you're right," said Hermione quietly. "There are spells which can make dead bodies move and do a wizard's bidding. But you need to remember that those bodies aren't people. There's no one inside, it's just a body, an object which can be charmed or transfigured just like any other. It doesn't have thoughts or move on its own. It only does what the wizard or witch makes it do."

"Does everyone really have no idea how this could have happened?" asked Ginny. "Not even Dumbledore?"

"It looks that way."

For more than an hour, they continued to discuss it, trying different possibilities, but their conversation seemed to be circular. Every idea they came up led to the same arguments, until a red-eyed Ginny announced that she was going to bed. Hermione turned to follow, but Harry stopped her.

"There's something I need to tell you both, now," he said very quietly.

Hermione frowned and paused, listening to make sure Ginny was continuing up to the next floor. Then she nodded.

"The prophecy?" Ron said coolly.

"The prophecy was smashed at the Ministry of Magic," Harry said. "But Dumbledore was the one who heard it originally, so when we got back to Hogwarts, he told me what it said."

"And?"

"It… it says that I have the power to defeat Voldemort. And that one of us has got to kill the other, in the end." Harry recounted the wording of the prophecy, as well as his conversation about it with Dumbledore, as best he could to them.

"Oh, Harry," cried Hermione when he had finished. "Why didn't you tell us? Are you all right?"

"I don't know," Harry said honestly. "I don't understand it, really. I definitely don't know how I'm supposed to be able to defeat him. But you should know. Now I've told you everything."

Ron opened his mouth as if he wanted to discuss it more, but Harry cut him off.

"I want to go to bed," he said. "I've done enough thinking for one day."

Harry didn't really expect to get any sleep that night. He lay for a long time in the dark after Hermione had left, and after Ron's snores began. Words and images from throughout the day flashed through his mind until his head was spinning again and he had to restrain himself from shouting out in frustration. He tried to calm himself by thinking of ordinary things, like cleaning his broomstick and writing his homework essays, but it was very difficult. After several hours, Harry finally began to doze off, just as the sky began to lighten with daybreak. The last thing he remembered before drifting to sleep was hearing Phineas Nigellus shuffle back into his portrait, sniff loudly, and grumble, "So much for unbreakable magical laws. My nephew does what he likes, as usual." Somehow, though, Harry thought that he sounded quite pleased.